


The Healing Properties of Family, Friendship, and Love

by fadinglight123



Series: Magnificent 7 Drabble Dumping Ground [3]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, I apparently have a thing for making Vasquez suffer, I promise he's my favorite, M/M, Minor Character Death, Vasquez-centric, but the others are super important too, like so much angst at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:59:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadinglight123/pseuds/fadinglight123
Summary: In the months and years he was on the run, Vasquez had had to go from having his family there to rely on and a home to call his own to having only himself and his horse. He'd never done anything harder in his life.
    It...changed him. Hardened him. Made him someone his mamá might not recognize.   It was the kind of change that might never go away.    He wasn't sure how he felt about that. In which Vasquez learns that the world is not always kind, distances himself from people, is found and offered a job by a warrant officer crazy enough to face down Bartholomew Bogue, nearly dies along side 5 idiots crazy enough to also take the job, lives to tell the tale, and learns that caring for his new family is not weakness.





	1. No Home to Speak Of

**Author's Note:**

> This was another prompt from yumikire, who asked for something where Vasquez or Faraday had something in their past that makes it hard for them to open up or show weakness and eventually learning that it's ok. I fell in love with it, and 5 days later, this monstrosity was born. 
> 
> This is the second time I've put Vasquez through some shit. It should probably be someone else's turn next....
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to conspiracieys for letting me bounce ideas off you in the middle of the night as I was writing and just being awesome in general.
> 
> EDIT: So....I'm back. I know that I promised chapter 3 like. 4 or 5 months ago, but stuff happened so. I've updated the first two chapters to make them fit with what we know about Vasquez a little better. Hopefully you like the changes. Chapter 3 will be finished and uploaded soonish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vasquez is altogether bored with life on his family's hacienda, and craves adventure away from his home and family. And then finds himself suddenly without home or family to speak of.

Vasquez still remembered his old life in his home country. He just preferred not to speak of it. If pressed, he could still describe, in great detail, the exact layout of the ranch his family had worked on. He could recall with perfect clarity his brothers and sisters and him rushing to finish chores so they could run and play together with the other children. He remembered learning how to ride a horse, and later becoming the best of the boys at breaking stallions (when he was a bit older, he also became the best shot with a pistol out of them; he didn't know it at the time but it was a skill that would both serve him well, and get him into a world of trouble). He remembers his mamá and papá being one of the rarer happy couples, and loving all their children. Even Vasquez, willful and restless and prone to sulking, a difficult child by all accounts, had had their affections and loved them in return. His antics _had_ vexed his parents though, especially his mamá.

"You have your abuelo's blood," she'd say ruefully, shaking her head. "He could never sit still either, always out looking for trouble. You're so much like him, mijo."

Back then, his name was Manuel, and he was Manolo or Manu to his family.

It had been a simpler time, happier in some ways, certainly more peaceful. But also boring. It had irritated him as a child, and as a teenager he'd chafed and rebelled against it, always feeling a call to something different. He'd tried to curb the impulses for a short while in his early adult years, if only to give his poor mamá some peace of mind, but it had been futile. It didn't take long for either of them to know, in their hearts, that he had to go. He remembered her words to him before he left...

•••

_"You were never meant for this life, mijo," she'd said, eyes sadder than he'd ever seen them. In that moment, there was nothing he'd wanted more than to be able to settle, to not be so rough and wild and be happy here at home if it would make his mamá stop looking so sad. "What you seek, we cannot give you."_

_"You've given me plenty!" he'd replied, a little desperately. "All of you! I love you all, and I know you love me! I do!"_

_"But it isn't enough, is it, mijo?" she'd interrupted, quiet and sure and gentle, so terribly gentle. It had struck him to his core, left him blindsided._

_"...I want it to be. I can....I can try to let it be." Even as the words left his lips, he knew he couldn't. And neither could she. Neither of them could go on pretending that all he wanted was a quiet life on this farm. Pretending like every part of him wasn't straining to leave, to explore and see the world._

_"Oh, Manolo," she'd said, still so sad. She pulled him close, holding him to her. "You are meant for other things....bigger things, mi hijo. You cannot reach your potential if you stay." She pulled back to look up at him then, smiling through the tears in her eyes. She wasn't the only one near tears. And he was clinging to her as much as she to him. "And no matter where you go, we will still love you. You will be in my heart always, mijo. I know you will make me proud."_

Now, her last words to him stung. He wasn't sure what she'd say if she knew, but he'd hardly call living the life of an outlaw with a king's bounty on his head making her proud.

•••

So he'd made his preparations, began saving as much money as he could. He waited until the end of the harvest season, wanting one more year of working the fields and working with the horses before he set off on his own. It was the happiest season he'd had in years, knowing that despite the fact that he'd soon be leaving his family behind for roads unknown, he had their support to find whatever it was his mamá was convinced awaited him.

That was when it all went wrong.

He didn't know who the cowards were, but they came in force, an angry mob hell bent on destroying everything his family had worked for and built for generations. They were everywhere, on horseback and on foot, with an array of weapons ranging from pistols that they fired wildly into the air to pitchforks and torches. He'd joined his brothers as they tried to save the horses from the burning stables. Eventually, Vasquez emerged from the structure, coughing and hacking from the smoke, leading his own white stallion out just as it began to collapse.

Vasquez pulled his horse, Lobo, a spirited stallion with a penchant for biting who had been hell to break, farther away from the collapsing stable. He leaned on the animal for a moment while he caught his breath, and let the burning in his eyes subside. When he'd finally recovered, he turned to the sound of shouts. What he saw made his heart drop even further into the pit of his stomach with fear, even as rage began to claw at him.

Their house was aflame, and the bastards who were behind this were destroying it further, smashing windows, throwing anything they could at the walls. And in the middle of it, his mamá was running frantically among them. She was pleading with them to stop, screaming for his papá as they watched the house begin to collapse just as the stable had. A shout was ripped from Vasquez's throat at the same moment his mother screamed, collapsing in grief. His father....his father was gone. Vasquez was struck immobile, watching as a man nearly ran his mamá down where she was still weeping with his horse as he galloped past. Vasquez was spurred into movement. He ran to her, shouting to try to get her attention, dodging through the people who were alternately fleeing or rioting. He reached her unscathed somehow, falling to his knees beside her and trying to pull her to her feet, urging her to run, to come with him. The mob was only growing more violent, spurred on by the destruction they had already wrought.

•••

_"Mamá! Mamá, please, we have to go! I need you to come with me, you need to stand! You need to run!" He pulled her to her feet, giving her a gentle shove back towards Lobo, towards where he knew more of his family had fled. When she stumbled and came to a stop, a vacant look in her eyes, he moved into her line of vision, shaking her by her shoulders. "Mamá, please!"_

_Some clarity seemed to return to her eyes. She suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders, clinging to him._

_"Manu, listen to me, you have to leave! You have to run!" Vasquez reeled back a little in shock, but her grip remained firm. "Go, mijo!" she ordered, now the one shoving him along. "Take Lobo and go! Go far away from here, as far as you've always wanted, run and find someplace safe, find where you are meant to be!"_

_Vasquez stopped. "Come with me," he pleaded. She stopped pushing at him as well._

_"Manolo.....I-"_

_"I won't leave without you!" She stroked his face gently._

_"I will be behind you, mijo. Always. But you have to go now, Manolo! These men, they will kill you if you catch their attention. Now, GO!" She gave him another shove to get him going, and this time he obeyed her, running back to where he'd left his faithful horse._

_They'd run together for a ways, Vasquez leading the way with his longer stride and his mamá following behind him a ways. Suddenly, he heard a shout behind him. He didn't stop, running faster as fear pulsed through him. Until he heard his mamá's cry and froze in his tracks, turning to look behind him. He swore, beginning to run back._

_Later he'd wonder if she'd accidentally run into the path of the man, or if he'd spotted them fleeing and chased her down. She was on the ground again, staring up fearfully at a man on horseback. His horse was rearing up, it's hooves coming down dangerously close to her. She scrambled backwards, and the man sneered. He cocked his pistol, aimed, and pulled the trigger._

_It felt like everything stopped._

_He reached his mamá as the man galloped off to do more damage elsewhere._

_"¡Mamá! Ay Dios, quédate conmigo! Por favor, mamá, por favor!" He held her close to him, brushing her hair away from her face. "Mamá, please, I need you to live, por favor, you can't die too, I was supposed to take care of you to protect you, ay Dios, you can't die!"_

_"Shhhh, Manu, it's....it's ok, mijo...."_

_"No, no no no, it's not, ay Dios, it's not..."_

_"Manu...." she coughed weakly. "Go...."_

_"No, I won't leave you, you have to come with me, you have to stay with me!" He choked on a sob. "Por favor, mamá...."_

_"Te amo, Manu....I will...be with you....te a-amo....."_

_She fell silent._

_Vasquez screamed his rage and grief._

_"Lo siento, lo siento mamá, ay dios no...."_

_He held her for a long time as she grew cold, shaking with the emotions thundering through him._

_Until finally, he stood. He reached Lobo and mounted him, drawing his own pistol._

_He rode towards the sounds of horses, instead of away as his mamá had wanted._


	2. Strange Company Comes Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vasquez makes a deal with the only man crazy enough to hunt him down and offer him a job instead of a bullet, and finds he may not entirely hate his and Missus Cullen's company. And then new people arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This is way later than I wanted it to be, but I got caught up in finals and then it was the holidays so this got delayed. To make it up to you guys I've already got a good start on chapter 3 which should be up in a few days. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: I updated both chapter 1 and this chapter a bit to fit in a little more with what we know about Vas. Hope you like the changes. I promise chapter 3 will be up soon!

The cabin was a stroke of good luck. Vasquez had been hiding out in the forests as much as he could, staying out of sight and away from civilization for the past few months. After his mamá's death and the destruction of the hacienda he called home, he'd found himself on the run. His (justified) response to the raiders had been to shoot a few of them, before fleeing when the mob started to descend on him instead of his home. Eventually he found his way across the border, only to find America was not so welcoming to people like him.

He wound up joining up with a band of outlaws, pulling robberies and committing crimes. Living a life he knew his mother would never have approved of, would likely try to beat some sense into him if she found out. It had not been pleasant, but he was not so alone, and he had money to buy food and supplies, to keep him and Lobo going. He wasn't so naive as to think of the rest of the gang as friends. But they were at least companions, partners.

It all came crashing down when they came across the large estate. The ranger they encountered there was sick, made his blood boil in a way it never had in his memory. The way he treated Vasquez's countrymen, the _vaqueros_ and farmers working the land there made him think of the people who had destroyed his family and his life. When he saw the man beating on one of the workers, while a younger woman watched and begged in Spanish for him to stop, something in Vasquez snapped. Before he had a conscious thought, he had pulled his gun and shot the man.

He hadn't expected the force of the law that would be brought down on him for that action. Vasquez was now a wanted man. This wasn't entirely new, as the entire band was wanted by the law. But Vasquez was now wanted for shooting ( _it wasn't murder,_ he insisted to himself. _The man had deserved it._ ) a ranger. He had a $500 bounty on his head, and bounty hunters eager to cash in on that reward and see him dead in the process. The rest of the outlaws he'd been traveling with abandoned him. He couldn't say he blamed them, nor that he felt any sadness at parting with them. 

He'd been on his own for months since then, avoiding civilization and avoiding the law as much as possible. This particular cabin with its owner already dead and no other people around for miles. Sleeping in a room with a dead man was....unsettling at times, but having a roof over his head far outweighed any discomfort he felt.

It had been difficult adjusting to life on the run, learning the hard way that entering any town was a risk that he should avoid at all costs. While some towns were remote enough to have not received the warrant for his head, there could always be bounty hunters sniffing about that were all too happy to attempt to take him in or kill him.

It had not been easy. At least if he'd left before, before the attack on the ranch, before he watched the slaughter of his family and all they'd worked for, before his mama died in his arms and he nearly died trying to avenge her and his father, he'd at least have had a place to come back to. And if he had missed the slaughter, the neighbors might at least have been willing to help him and allow him to stay with them for a time if he had returned. Now he had nothing and no one.

In the months and years he was on the run, Vasquez had had to go from having his family there to rely on and a home to call his own to having only himself and his horse. He'd never done anything harder in his life.

It...changed him. Hardened him. Made him someone his mamá might not recognize.

It was the kind of change that might never go away.

He wasn't sure how he felt about it. These walls, how hardened he'd become, how comfortable he'd grown with his own company, so accustomed to being alone that he wasn't sure he'd be able to spend any extended amount of time with others even if he could. Or if he'd even want to if given the chance.

•••

He didn't need to see the approaching figures to know that two strangers galloping in to the woods and stopping at the cabin he'd been taking refuge in spelled trouble for him.

He heard the hoofbeats from far enough away that he stopped eating, listening to hear if they stopped outside. He silently grabbed his pistols and lasso. They could be harmless, innocent travelers stopping in hopes of hospitality, or friends of the previous owner of the cottage. Whoever the strangers approaching the building were, it would not be wise to assume the black man and white woman who followed him were harmless. Innocence of wrongdoing did not make one harmless, he'd found through his own experience.

Ordinary folk who had never before thought of raising a weapon against another human could easily do just that if pushed far enough or properly frightened, threatened, harmed or insulted. Just look at him. He knew better than to underestimate the willingness of strangers to mean him harm.

•••

It absolutely goddamn figured that the first person to actually come close to catching him would be crazy enough to offer him a job.

Sam Chisolm was not a name he recognized, but that didn't matter much in the world of bounty hunters. The man had a handbill with his face, however rough a sketch it was, on it and the bounty he had racked up when he shot the ranger plain as day.

Ordinarily, it didn't matter much to Vasquez who came calling to attempt to get the money out for his head. Either they died or failed or he died. And he did not intend to die yet (often in the lonely nights of the past months he'd wondered why exactly he was so determined to not die; it would be so easy to just give in. Put a pistol to his own head or let someone do the deed for him. He could finally rest, maybe see his mamá and papá and the rest of his family again, if he was lucky; but he couldn't bring himself to give in. Not yet. He didn't know why).

This man though, who was so clearly a bounty hunter (and a damned good one since he'd managed to find Vasquez's little hideout), had walked in knowing he was here, knowing he was dangerous and that there could be any number of traps waiting within. And he'd done it while leaving his guns (or at least those most easily reached and visible; Vasquez was not foolish enough to believe this man was completely unarmed. Any man who didn't carry at least one concealed weapon and found himself in shootouts on the regular would not last long) outside, and had brought this woman who was clearly not a bounty hunter in with him.

He was clearly either a fool, crazy, or both.

 _Or,_ a little voice whispered viciously in the back of his head, _he doesn't think he needs his guns because he has something else up his sleeve and this is all a trap._

And then he had the gall to offer him a job and say he wouldn't be pursuing him any further afterward if he agreed.

So clearly a bit of all three.

At least he was man enough to not deny the accusations about his sanity.

•••

In spite of the circumstances, Vasquez found himself liking his two companions. Chisolm was, despite being a bounty hunter, a decent man, treating him with respect and filling him in on the details of his business proposition (and it was a helluva mission they were taking on too) without any hesitation or bullshit, which certainly made Vasquez more willing to respect the man. And if that wasn't enough to make Vasquez like him, Chisolm's willingness to tolerate his rough edges and lack of social graces certainly was. He appreciated that there were no attempts at idle chatter with him; all the talking was purposeful and to the point.

The widow (Emma, he reminded himself; she'd said her name was Emma Cullen) was a fiery one. Despite their...rough start (Vasquez is willing to admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe being a bit more of an ass than was strictly necessary), Missus Cullen seems willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if Chisolm deems him worthy of trust. Especially once he'd learned why she out was hiring guns with a bounty hunter and he'd agreed easily to support her cause. He felt a strange kinship with her, though he would never tell her or anyone else. If he could help this widow defend her town and get one bounty hunter off his tail, the risks that came with accepting the job were worth it.

As they rode to where Chisolm said they'd be waiting to meet the other members of their cause that he'd sent for, they would slide into comfortable silences between their sparse conversations. Despite how...unsuited to human company he'd become these past months, he found he didn't much mind these two at least. Once they set off he felt the urge to keep his hackles up constantly ebb away as his gut told him that he was among allies again now. The clear expectations for him in this business were of some comfort, and he felt at least some of the tension he'd been carrying lately bleed off as he found himself in the most stable position he'd been in since he went on the run.

•••

And it was naturally right as he was starting to feel comfortable and used to this kind of quiet but present company that that peace was shattered. Vasquez was the first to spot the approaching horses. All the tension (as small an amount as it may have been) that he'd been starting to release came rushing back. He alerted the other two, moving around to get a better view as he let Sam go out to meet them. He reached for one of his guns instinctively, letting his hand rest there without drawing it.

He only relaxed some when it became clear that these were the men Chisolm was expecting, the associates he had mentioned would be meeting them. The one that came down to greet Chisolm, the one he called Goodnight (and what a name that was, Vasquez could not help but think with a curl of his lip) was loud. He watched Chisolm meet his enthusiastic greeting with good humor and fondness, hanging back warily. The newcomer, Goodnight, certainly seemed friendly and charming; a combination that would no doubt be hell for Vasquez to adjust to.

But it was the last man who approached that really caught his attention and sent Vasquez's teeth grinding.

The drunken man standing before him butchering his mother tongue and apparently having a grand time doing so had set Vasquez's hackles up with only one sentence. He fought the urge to curse at him, biting back his reflex to give a grin that was mostly teeth and a snarl.

Chisolm pulled him away towards the rest of their little band before it could escalate. But even as he was pulled away he heard the snickers of the man behind him.

 _Ay Dios,_ he thought to himself. _That one is going to be all kinds of trouble._ He resigned himself to having to relearn how to interact with people while dealing with whatever bullshit this one intended to throw at him.

As Chisolm told Goodnight and his companion Billy of their goal, the irritating one, Faraday, continued to try and bait him. Vasquez stubbornly grit his teeth, refusing to crack yet. Already it was shaping up to be a long and more unpleasant mission than he'd anticipated.

Though as they set off for the location of their next recruit and he found himself starting to snap back, he couldn't help but think that at least it would be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is definitely dedicated to Andy, who was the biggest cheerleader when I was writing this.


	3. Unwitting Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Faraday continues to be irritating, the final two members of their band arrive, bonding happens and the journey back to Rose Creek commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I know I said like....multiple months ago when I updated the last 2 chapters that this would be up soon after but...I don't seem to be very good with actually keeping to that. Trust me, I'm annoyed with myself for it. But since I entered college as a journalism major recently, I'll hopefully get better about writing under deadlines and setting deadlines for myself. Crossing my fingers.

Just as Vasquez had expected, adding Goodnight, Rocks and Faraday to the mix brought an end to the relative peace and quiet he'd enjoyed when it was just Chisolm, Missus Cullen and himself. While Billy was quiet as they come, quieter even than himself or Chisolm, Goodnight seemed to delight at the sound of his own voice. Vasquez suspected this was part of how they got along so well, with Goodnight filling the silence with his seemingly endless chatter and Billy listening and only occasionally offering his own input. The two certainly were close, that much was easy to see. Goodnight would consistently engage Billy and make him seem part of the conversation he seemed determine to keep flowing all on his own. And Billy always responded even if not always verbally. For all that the ceaseless chatter grated at him, he couldn't help but be envious of the two. How much easier would his life be if he had someone he could trust at his side. 

And then there was the matter of Faraday. Where Goodnight enjoyed hearing his own voice, Faraday seemed to absolutely revel in making an ass out of himself. While he had quieted down quite a bit (likely as his drunkeness wore off and the effects of a hangover set in), he would often pipe up with as obnoxious a comment as possible. While he'd already demonstrated his ability to rile Vasquez up, the others weren't immune to his antics either, with the exception of Chisolm, who seemed to have infinite stores of patience. Everyone else wasn't so fortunate. While he found himself occasionally snarling insults back and forth with Faraday, Missus Emma would often send him withering looks whenever he addressed her or made a particularly rude comment. Her companion, Teddy, would wince or otherwise shake his head at the man's shamelessness, but seemed otherwise content to fly under his radar. Vasquez couldn't say he blamed the man; he had just spent the 4 days or so in Faraday's company, 2 of those days being with just him. Vasquez shuddered at the thought of having to do that himself.

Goodnight accepted Faraday's comments with the most grace, though he occasionally pressed his lips together and shot Chisolm a look. Otherwise though, the man gave no outward sign of being irritated. Rocks, on the other hand, was visibly agitated by the man, particularly when he was engaging with Goodnight. He was much quieter with it than Vasquez was, but it was still plain on his face when he glanced at the man. At one point Rocks had even glanced back at him, and they shared a long-suffering look. That, more than anything else, solidified his opinion of the man. For all his long silences, the man wasn't half bad. 

 

* * *

 

Blessedly, Faraday became more quiet as the day unfolded, leaving the group in some peace, even as Goodnight continued holding all sides of conversation himself. As he seemed to run out of stories to tell and mindless chatter to keep up, he finally turned his talk to their group. 

"What a merry band we are," the man remarked. "Me, a gray; Chisolm, a blue; Billy, a mysterious man of the Orient; a drunk Irishman; a Texican..." It was here that Vasquez tensed and scowled at Goodnight, irritated by his words for the first time that day. Goodnight didn't appear to notice, or if he did he pretended not to, carrying on. "A female and her gentleman caller. This is not going to end well," he chuckled, sounding almost delighted by this. 

Vasquez found himself drawing his shoulders back to shoot a retort back at the man for the comment about his nationality. 

"I'm Mexican,  _cabrón,"_ he muttered angrily at the man beside him, spitting off to his other side. "No such thing as a  _'Texican.'"_ He couldn't hide the rancor he felt for that particular word being used to describe him and his heritage as he turned to scowl at Goodnight. For all he knew that white men had certain  _ideas_ about their superiority to him and his people, he couldn't help but hold on to the pride he felt for his identity. It was practically all he had left, after all. 

Goodnight glanced at him a moment, an unreadable look on his face. "Try telling that to my granddaddy," he replied after a moment. "He died at the Alamo." ( _Of course he did_. Vasquez couldn't help but to roll his eyes.  _White people and the damn Alamo._ )"New Orleans Greys, long barracks, bayonets. Blood. Teeth." 

Vasquez pulled out one of his cigars, lighting it, before turning to glare at the other man as he continued: "Mauled by a horde of teeming brown devils." 

He felt his eyes narrow, felt his grip on the reins tighten, but bit back the string of curses building on his tongue. He already disliked Faraday and had made that perfectly clear as they rode today. He didn't need someone else against him on this suicide quest. 

"My grandfather was one of those devils, you know. Toluca Battalion" he eventually responded, tone carefully open, casual and conversational. He imagined the look in his eyes was anything but. "Hey," Here, he leaned in, a grin that was all teeth on his face. "Maybe my grandfather killed your grandfather, huh?" 

Goodnight looked at him, leaning ever so slightly away. Vasquez couldn't help but take some pleasure in that. Goodnight broke eye contact a moment later, looking down and away from him. "Mm, what a charming thought. I sense we are bonding." This last bit he directed slightly behind him to Rocks. Vasquez took the rest as the subtle acknowledgement that it was that Goodnight knew he'd crossed a line. 

 

* * *

 

 

Vasquez didn't like the look of the two boys who called themselves the Pigeon brothers. Didn't much care for the story they told about how they obtained the rifle of the Jack Horne Chisolm had brought them in search of either. He hoped their leader had the good sense to not invite them along in Horne's place, even if they could use the extra manpower. He doubted these two would be of any real use in a battle like the one that surely awaited them at their final destination. 

His doubts were quickly proven to be valid, by none other than Horne himself. One was dead before any of them even realized he was there, downed by the man's hatchet. The other was too panicked to even get a proper shot off to defend himself. Vasquez and the others watched in varying degrees of surprise as Horne marched over to the boy and dispatched him quickly, if brutally. Even Vasquez, no stranger to murder or death, winced at the man's methods.

"The Pigeon brothers weren't famous very long," he heard Goodnight comment from beisde him. That drew a chuckle from himself and Faraday. 

He watched Horne as the grizzled man approached, collecting his rifle and hatchet. At first glance, he certainly wouldn't look like much by himself. Old and weathered and large, with a strange high voice, he bore the signs of a strange and rough way of life. Granted, in his current state, dried blood around his neck and head and weapons in hand, he looked half-mad. But Vasquez had just seen him kill 2 men with ease, and he'd managed to sneak up on their group of seven in the process as well. The strength required to bury a hatchet so thoroughly in a man's chest and to stomp a skull in was also notable. That the man had apparently survived a fall down a cliff and proceeded to track the boys who did it back here even moreso. Clearly there was more to him than meets the eye. When the man asked if they agreed his killings were justified, Vasquez was quick to put his hands up in a show of agreement. 

He somehow wasn't surprised when the man left without joining them. Disappointed perhaps, because Horne seemed like a useful, capable addition to their suicide mission, but not surprised. He couldn't say he blamed the man. If he knew the particulars of their quest before he agreed to join Chisolm, and if he didn't have the bounty for the man to hold so elegantly over his head, he probably would have left too. Horne doesn't know what they're getting into. But from what little talk he shared with them, Vasquez knows the man has seen suffering in his life, and likely isn't interested in experiencing or witnessing any more. They'll just have to pull off this fool's errand with the 5 of them, Miss Emma, Teddy and whoever else in Rose Creek who's willing to fight. 

 

* * *

 

 

The route Chisolm chooses to go back to Rose Creek on takes them through territory of the natives. Vasquez is no fool. He knows the risks of this. He sees how on edge the others are, particularly Miss Emma and Teddy. Even Faraday has chosen to forego his jibes and insults for silence, and Goodnight too has been mostly silent since they entered Indian territory. Billy had been alert and vigilant in a way that spoke to his own tension. Vasquez was quite tense himself. As desperate as he was to avoid death by bounty hunter, he'd never been so desperate as to risk entering these lands. He knew what could happen if he did. Only their leader seemed completely unbothered by the current locale. 

The silence was unnerving, and as they passed remains of some of the people of these lands, Vasquez found himself breaking it for the first time all day. Goodnight was quick as ever with a response, but they fell back into an uneasy silence rather quickly after that. 

 

* * *

 

 

They made camp at a small rocky outcropping, easy enough to defend should it come down to it, and offering shelter from the night. Once night had fallen and the fire was lit, Vasquez found himself curling up to sleep rather quickly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept through the night, had been going on as little sleep as possible for months now, and while he hardly felt safe here, he was at least reassured that there others around who were still awake enough to wake him if they were attacked in the night. So as the warmth from the fire seeped into his bones, Vasquez drifted off to sleep. 

 

* * *

 

 

He was one of the last to wake the next morning when Horne made his presence known. When he first jolted into wakefulness, he wasn't sure what to make of the mountain man. When he saw what the man had been trying to convey with his funny hand signals, he was suddenly much more awake. Instantly, Vasquez drew his guns, aiming at the Indian on horseback as he approached, hearing the rest of his companions scrambling similarly. 

As usual, it was Chisolm who seemed unshaken by the approaching man, ordering them to hold. Proving once again that he was exactly as crazy as Vasquez had thought when they first met, he went out to speak to him, leaving his weapon with Vasquez. He only heard snippets of the conversation, with Chisolm going between English and the foreign tongue of the man before him, but when the stranger got off his horse, pulled the deer slung over it with him and drew a knife, he wasn't ashamed to admit that his breath hitched as he cocked his pistol, ready to shoot. He heard someone else do the same behind him, but his gaze was trained on the threat before him. 

He watched in wary confusion as the man cut in to the deer, carving out one of the organs (the liver perhaps?) and offering it to Chisolm. He couldn't hold back a disgusted, sympathetic wince as he watched Sam bite into it, before handing it back to the warrior and returning to them. 

When the two joined them by the fire, Sam explained that his name was Red Harvest, he was a Comanche warrior, and he would be joining them on their mission. On closer inspection, the warrior was younger than he'd thought, easily the youngest of their band with the exception, perhaps, of Teddy. While Vasquez and the rest were still wary of him, a feeling that was clearly mutual, he couldn't help but feel some respect for the warrior. After all, Sam had admitted openly that they were all likely going to die, and still the kid had decided to join them. Something about it made him curious. His curiosity quickly turned to a feeling of commiseration and borderline amusement when Faraday opened his mouth and promptly inserted his foot and Red Harvest gave him the most stone-faced look he'd ever seen on another man in his life. It was enough to shut Faraday up when the man offered no words outside the look. Vasquez thought he could maybe come to appreciate the warrior.

As he looked around their camp at the strange band they'd assembled, Vasquez couldn't help but feel, with some exasperation, that he'd managed to get himself into even more trouble than he thought he had. Somehow, he couldn't feel too irritated by that fact. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that only took like 6 months longer than I intended it to finish. I won't make any promises about the next part, but I will say that it should be more cooperative than this one was since we'll actually get into the action. 
> 
> Thanks as always to Andy for reading pieces of this as I wrote them and offering encouragement and just generally being a blessing tbh.
> 
> I'm not exactly sure if I like the ending to this chapter, but I'll fix that later if I think of something better.

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish used:  
> Abuelo-grandpa  
> Mijo-shortened form of mi hijo which means my son; like calling someone dear  
> Lobo-wolf  
> ¡Mamá! Ay Dios, quédate conmigo! Por favor, mamá, por favor!-Mama! Oh god, stay with me! Please, mama, please!  
> Te amo- I love you  
> Lo siento, lo siento mamá, ay Dios no-I'm sorry, I'm sorry mama, oh god no
> 
> While trying to think of a name for Vasquez's horse, Andy and I came up with Lobo, bc of the irony of calling a horse Wolf. Vasquez called him that because he's prone to biting, and the name stuck. 
> 
> I may come back to edit this later, but I'm happy with this for now, especially since it took me 5 days to finish. I hope you like what I have so far!


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